We Can't Be Friends
by compactdisc66
Summary: A ronin. A masterless samurai. A roaming souhei. He's being hunted by someone he met long ago. Someone he sees in his darkest dreams and someone he drowns out in alcohol.


"I said don't fucking touch me!"

He stopped his advance in shock. Brown eyes wide open, black hair pushed away from his face, katana held in his left hand. "I'm just…" He searched for a response to my outburst. "You saved me! How could I not-"

"I was paid. Somebody gave me money to kill him. That doesn't involve you at all." I let the harsh words drop like stones into the ringing silence. This kid had to get it through his thick skull. "It was a job. I didn't even know you existed when I took the offer up."

He shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to believe my words. "But neither did I! And now that I do, I feel like-"

I cut him off yet again, with a frustrated growl. "What you feel means nothing! Feelings change all the fucking time! I am not doing this with you, kid!"

"But-"

"Say another word and I'll cut your fucking throat out." My voice was whisper quiet and full of truth. He fell silent, but glared intently at me. And I could not believe that I saw lust there, amidst the anger. What the hell is wrong with this kid? I just killed his dad in front of him, threatened to kill him next, and it gave him a hard-on? He needs more psychological help than I do, and that's saying something. I raised my own katana higher to his chest and pushed him firmly to the left of the ostentatious room. "Get out of my way. I won't say this again."

I walked past him to the window to make my getaway before he regained his sense and called for help. But a hand pulled on my belt and I decided it was time to stop barking and bite. My katana whipped around faster than I could even realize and hit him in the face with its hilt. He fell back hard onto the bedframe, causing the katana to fall from his hand. One hand held him down, while the other made three swift strokes upward with my blade on the back of his wrist. Deep enough to leave a scar, light enough to heal quickly. It was at this point that his mind caught up with what had happened and he yelled in pain. I stood and looked down at my artwork- only to find among the pain in his eyes an even darker shade of lust that only grew. I pulled back in disgust, hit him once over the head to knock him out, and jumped out the window.

Cities made me a little anxious. My theory was that this feeling tied to my memories of being a child. Always being on guard, aware of my surroundings, ready to fight at the slightest sign of a pickpocket. You had to be a monster to survive, and I was no exception. You learn to turn yourself on only in your sleep- and even then you have to be careful.

But I had very little of value anyways, and my katana dissuaded anyone who felt the need to try finding out. Anyways I was here for a job. Murder was something that people with names wished to stay out of- not good for a reputation. That's why nameless ex-souhei were useful in those situations. They knew how to kill and didn't have a conscience to tell them what was too far. The only thing that any smart ronin has to worry about is that you don't kill someone too important-

-or you don't get caught doing it. That's what I was working on now, actually. My target was a retired general whose son needed his inheritance and fast. In fact he paid me the last 100 ryou he owned in order to get it. My target sent his slave ahead of him to purchase something in the alley over while he followed slowly behind with an umbrella holder, browsing on his way. I waded through the crowd casually, picking up a takuhatsugasa from a merchant too busy haggling to notice and placing it on my head, low over my eyes. They turned the corner and I quickly caught up with them. We were not alone in the alley- it was just as crowded as the main market street. However with the right speed and stealth, the right mannerisms and body language, I could kill this man in broad daylight without anyone batting an eye.

And so I did. I walked with the natural flow of the crowd to work my way in front of the two of them. Carefully slide the knife from my sleeve to my hand. Motion to scratch the back of my head. Slit the throat with a quick flick of my wrist. So smooth that my knife came back clean, and I walked halfway across the alley before the target fell dead and the umbrella holder started freaking out. No one knew what happened. And that's how it was supposed to be.

With my 100 ryou safely in my yukata, I bought a small basket of raw fish and pre-boiled clams. Tonight I would feast, though mainly on sake. But the better type this time. First make sure I'm not being followed. Check: the commotion back in the alley held all the nearby attention. I steered through the city until I was on the outskirts of the town, at the edge of the forest. A short walk in I found the cave as usual, well hidden. Inside was dark as Hell, but quick breathing told me I had disturbed people.

"Either breathe slowly or don't breathe at all," I spoke into the darkness as I set the basket down. "I wouldn't have known you were here. Food. Cook it yourself, don't use flame."

Small faces peered out from the depths of the cave. 25 of them, to be exact. They crowded around the basket and took their shares. Some chose to share, others took what they could and growled at the others to keep them from possibly stealing their shares. I didn't meddle in this kind of stuff- their food was allowance, to do with as they pleased. It all depends on what's more important to them, and that's what they had to realize. How they realize it is not my problem. I'm not here to make them feel OK. I'm here to teach them how to survive. Orphans, runaways… It didn't matter. If they were kids I gave them the option of learning under me whatever I could teach them. They could leave at any time, and had to be out after a year depending on me.

Really in that year I was teaching them to depend on themselves. I guess I have a soft spot, but it doesn't feel soft at all. It feels hard and cold as stone, both to me and to them. It's not gonna be a walk in the park.

They cooked the fish by heating some coals and wrapping the fish in leaves to set them in the heat. No fires, no attention drawn to our location. They might hate me for it now, but it was just another learning point for them. They didn't have to like me.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not some kind of saviour or father figure or hero. I just know what it's like to be starving and helpless. This was just a way to keep others from dying, like I had seen so many kids do. And it wasn't out of my way, so why not?

I didn't know most of them by name. They only knew me by "Jizou", and most didn't even know my face. We practiced at night and I left each day. Lord knows what they did every day. I didn't care.

I left them there in the cave and headed out to the nearest tavern for a drink. Or twenty. Tonight we wouldn't spar. I was too eager to loosen my thoughts, forget memories even though I knew I would only remember them even more later. Eyes of people I killed. Screams some yelled when it failed to be a quick death. A ronin-wannabe kid who sharpened his katana skills and travelled the whole of Japan because of a single encounter with me of about two minutes long.

Man, now I really need that drink.


End file.
